Halloweenklok
by Larien Mithrandir
Summary: Just a one-shot of a Dethklok Halloween. Rated M because Pickles is drunk, horny, and attracted to his manager. There's no sex, but it's slash. You've been warned. Reviews are appreciated.


**A/N:** This is so late! It came to me just after Halloween was over. I've finally gotten time to sit down and put it into my computer. In case you don't know, most (if not all) of my fictions are at least started while I'm sitting in class…Luckily, college professors really don't care if you're taking notes or paying attention. Anyways, yes, this is a slash fiction. The pairing is Charles and Pickles, because I'm in love with Pickles at the moment, and you KNOW he's hot for Charlie! There will be no full-on lemon, due to the fact that I cannot bring myself to write slash sex. But, hey, you're fangirls (and possibly fanboys), so you can use your imagination! Read, review, and enjoy!

~Larien~

It had seemed like any other morning at Mordhaus when Charles had woken up. His alarm had gone off at precisely 6:00 am, as it did every morning. He had thrown his covers back, sat up, put his glasses on his face, stood up, went to the restroom to relieve himself, turned on the shower, laid his suit out on the bed, taken his shower, and gotten himself ready for the day. Jean-Pierre had met him at his office, waiting with a tray of steaming oatmeal, half of a grapefruit, and freshly-brewed Duncan Hills coffee. He had thanked the unfortunate chef, taken the tray into his office, and begun his work. As the CFO of the seventh largest economy in the world, his work was never done. It was just like any other morning.

Of course, Charles had then decided to glance at his calendar. First, he noticed the month: October. Then he noticed the day: Saturday, the thirty-first. Today was Halloween. The mousey man's right hand gingerly removed his glasses and set them aside. His left pointer finger and thumb pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Sir, do you require anything?" a nameless, faceless klokateer asked.

Charles glared at him and replied, "A full bottle of extra-strength aspirin and a case of water." The klokateer bowed, then disappeared to fetch the required items. It did not take him long to return. Charles made a mental note to get this particular klokateer some sort of promotion, if the hooded man managed to survive long enough.

"Will you require anything else, my lord?" the klokateer inquired. Charles dismissed him with a wave of his hand. The hooded man disappeared without another word, leaving the manager to reflect on the past thirty days…

On the first of October, Pickles had taken Toki to the supermarket. There, the young Norwegian had been introduced to Halloween. The two had returned laden with booze and candy, and Pickles had been deep in the middle of a childhood memory wherein he and Seth had egged houses and played Ding Dong Ditch. This memory must have been from before Seth had become a dick.

Ever since Pickles had filled Toki's head with dreams of dressing up in a costume, going door-to-door to practically beg for candy, and playing pranks on the unfortunate souls who denied the request for sugar, the rhythm guitarist could not stop talking about it. He had gone throughout Mordhaus asking every soul he passed about the spooky holiday. Nathan had helped him find a costume, managing to convince Toki that he and Deddy Bear _must_ be Vikings, in honor of his ancestry. Murderface had helped him carve jack-o-lanterns. They had carved a jack-o-lantern in the likeness of each band member, Charles, Deddy Bear, Servetta Skwigelf (only to piss off Skwisgaar, who quickly smashed the pumpkin and—Charles guessed—cussed out his tormentors in Swedish), and the gear brand. Skwisgaar had ignored everything—except the Servetta pumpkin—and told Toki that he was a "stupid, cries-baby dildo"…

Finally, Halloween was here. Charles knew in his heart of hearts that today all Hell would break loose. He glanced at his watch. It was now 8:32 am. He needed to get to work.

The door to Charles's office suddenly burst open and a chestnut-haired Viking with a Viking bear came bounding in. He was followed by a leprechaun with red dreadlocks and an open bottle of Guinness. Charles sighed and greeted them, "Good morning, Toki, Pickles. What can I, ah, do for you boys?"

"Today ams Halloween! We's ams goings to Tricks for Treats tonight. Yous gots ta comes wit us!" Toki exclaimed, presenting a _Wizard of Oz_ Tin Man costume. "We's bought dis for yous. Tries it ons!"

Charles sighed again. "Boys, I have a _lot_—"

"Aw, c'mon, Charlie!" Pickles interrupted. "Take a load ahff! Ya look like ya need a break. We can't have our robot overheatin'." He flashed his trademark grin. As much as he wanted to, Charles could not bring himself to deny the latest outlandish demand of his clients.

"Are the other boys coming along?" Charles asked.

"Ja! Nat'ans ams a American Indian chief, Murderface ams a Civils War guy, and Skwisgaar ams Odin!" Toki replied cheerily.

"You convinced Skwisgaar to go Trick-or-Treating?" Charles was quite surprised by this.

"Yeah, dood. He's never done Halloween, either. 'Course he said he'd only go if he could be Odin," Pickles supplied.

Toki shoved the Tin Man costume at Charles and began dragging Pickles out of the office, calling over his shoulder, "We sees you laters, robot! We's leaving at 6:30!" Charles stared at the costume. Tonight would be a long night…

By the time 6:30 pm rolled around, Dethklok and their manager were assembled in the kitchen. Charles had discarded the Tin Man costume, unamused at his boys' joke. Instead, he had opted to go as a nerd. He wore black thick-rimmed glasses with white tape on the nose piece, a red and blue plaid shirt complete with pocket protector and pens, high-water pants with yellow suspenders and the pants legs rolled up to mid-calf, white knee socks, and penny loafers. His hair was slicked back, as always. His appearance had cracked the boys up at first, but now everyone was eagerly awaiting their departure.

"A'right, I've helped Toki lay out a route fer us," Pickles said authoritatively. Toki held up a piece of paper with a crude crayon map drawn on it. "We gotta stick to dis map! Me and Toki scoped it out. The houses on the route look very prahmising." At this, Pickles wiggled his pierced eyebrows up and down.

"Scho, what do we do if the people don't give usch candy?" Murderface questioned.

"Well, Pickle say dats if da house don't gots da light on da porch, dey don't gots candy. If dey don't gots candy, we t'rows dese eggs ats dem and we puts dis papers toilet in da tree." Toki grinned as he pointed at the supplies.

"Yeah, but jes' throw one egg. We only got six cartons a' eggs," Pickles added.

With their plans now as carefully laid as the man-children of Dethklok could possibly hope to lay out, the group marched out to claim the sugar they believed was rightly theirs. They stopped at every house on the route. The houses whose porch lights were on gladly gave the boys candy. The darkened houses received eggs on their windows and doors, toilet paper in their yard, and a couple of houses received Murderface's fecal matter on their doorsteps. After an hour and a half, the group returned to Mordhaus, laden with a wide assortment of candies. Of course, Charles demanded that the boys go straight to the kitchen to have their candy checked by the ever-faithful klokateers.

After having their candy checked, Nathan declared, "Now, let's hit the bars! They're having Halloween parties!"

"I'll leave you boys to that. I have a lot of work to finish," Charles said as he slipped quickly out of the kitchen. He walked briskly to his office, but he soon became aware that he was being followed. He turned to find Pickles grinning his trademark grin, another bottle of Guinness in hand.

"Hey dere, chief," the redhead said quietly. He'd lost his leprechaun hat and jacket, and his tie hung loose around his neck.

Charles could not stop himself from thinking that Pickles looked downright hot. Charles had always fantasized about the redheaded drummer, even when Pickles had been the lead singer and guitarist of Snakes N' Barrels. However, he quickly pushed the thought out of his mind. "Pickles, is everything okay? Are you not joining the other boys?"

Pickles took a drink from the bottle and answered, "Nah, I think I'd rather hang out wit' you, Charlie. I've always had a soft spot fer nerds." He was now grinning like the Devil himself and stalking up to his slightly older manager. He pressed the brunette to the wall with one hand and waved the bottle of Guinness in Charles's face. "How drunk do I gotta get ya before ya agree ta my demands?"

Charles was now blushing profusely. He stammered, "I, uh, d-don't th-think you, um, wa-wanna…wanna do th-this. I-inter-office re-relations…are, uh, inap…inappro…inappropriate!"

Pickles giggled, his turbid mind swimming with all of the "inappropriate" plans he had for Charles. "Sahrry, Charlie, but dat bit only makes my plans seem more fun!" He grabbed his manager by the wrist and drug the poor man towards the immaculate office. "I figured we'd start in yer office, where ye're comfortable, and end up in my bed, where I want ya."

"B-but—" Charles tried to protest as he was shoved into his own office.

"Ah ah ah, chief!" Pickles taunted, locking the office door and walking over to where Charles now sat in his desk chair. "Ya werk fer Dethklok, so that makes ya a gear. And the gears must turn fer the klok." The drummer straddled his captive and kissed him passionately. The manager, in turn, resigned himself to the longest night of his life.


End file.
